


Two years, 4 months and 12 days

by MajorTrouble



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Jaskier is a drama queen, M/M, Soft Boys, Tumblr Prompt, i'm just sayin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorTrouble/pseuds/MajorTrouble
Summary: He's supposed to be enjoying himself. Instead, he feels vaguely uneasy and has calculated that's been 2 years, 4 months and 12 days since that feeling started. And it all revolves around Jaskier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 172





	Two years, 4 months and 12 days

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt! This was so soft. Loved it, thank-you!! <3

Two years, 4 months and 12 days. 

That’s how long they’d been travelling together for before Geralt knew something was wrong. If he was honest with himself - which he usually wasn’t - the vague sense of uneasiness that touched the edges of his senses had started long before that. But it wasn’t until now - two years, 4 months and 12 days - that he truly felt it. Felt he could start to put a name to it. 

Having the bard as a constant companion wasn’t terrible, he’d decided soon - 8 months and 5 days - after their meeting in Posada. Once he’d begrudgingly gotten over the idea that his reputation needed any kind of polish, Jaskier had become a companion, of sorts. He was reckless, and foolhardy, and incredibly annoying, but the first night after they had parted that first winter Geralt had woken up in the middle of the night feeling like something was missing, something was wrong. And it had taken him several moments of gritting his teeth and laying completely still, trying to hear if there was something in the surrounding woods that was about to come tearing through his meagre campsite before he realized what it was. The steady sound of another heartbeat was missing. The quiet movements of sleep. The measured breaths of a human body at rest. 

He had lain awake the rest of the night bewildered at his own reactions. 

Now, he was watching Jaskier from across the banquet hall. The bard was completely in his element. He was poised on the edge of the slightly raised dais, belting out some terribly bawdy song that had half the court singing along and the other half blushing and fanning themselves. Geralt hid his smile behind another sip of ale and there it was again - that strange sense of  _ wrong _ . An uneasiness that slithered down his spine and tingled in his fingertips. 

It wasn’t something he wanted to think about, here in this hall full of nobles. He was supposed to be here as an honoured guest of the Count and Countess. The wyvern (or rather, pack of wyverns) that had been terrorizing the countryside for the past year was now gone, and they could all afford to have a celebration. Nevermind that it was actually the peasants in the valley below who were really celebrating. They were the ones who had been dying trying to protect their flocks and herds from the attacks. 

Geralt sighed and drained his mug. A servant immediately appeared at his elbow to refill it. He’d seen her, hovering on the edge of his vision, waiting. Obligingly he lowered his mug to accept her offer, his eyes still on Jaskier as he leapt onto the banquet table to finish his song with a flourish, eyes shining bright at the raucous applause. 

“He’s so pretty,” the serving girl sighed, hugging the ale jug to her chest. Geralt glanced down at her, frowning. She sighed again, eyes soft at the edges as she watched Jaskier. “I wish I was the one he falls in love with.” 

Suddenly she seemed to realize who she was standing next to and stood up straighter, eyes wide. Something made her bold, though, and she looked up at him - looked him in the eye. “Have you ever been in love?” she asked quickly, snapping her mouth shut almost immediately after saying it. 

Geralt tried to soften his own features, a little, and spoke quietly, hoping not to spook the girl too much as he rumbled, “No. But I wouldn’t know what it looks like. Witchers don’t feel love.” 

The girl considered this, brow furrowing in contemplation, still hugging the jug to her chest and running one hand up and down the handle thoughtfully. “But - “ she stopped, and looked up at him for permission to continue. She was just a serving girl, after all. He nodded, hating that he had to do that. Her eyes brightened and she smiled, shyly at him, “But you look at him like you are.”

His body didn’t move, but his mind jolted back at her words and there was the same tingling in his fingers. That was not something he was expecting. “Hmmm,” he intoned instead, sipping again at his beer. The girl took that as a dismissal and ducked her head and scurried off, heading down the table to refill more empty mugs. He watched her go, not sure what to do with this new information. 

It was at that point that Jaskier started another song, a fast-paced jig that had nearly everyone out on the floor. He caught Geralt’s eye, flashing a smile and a wink before jumping down from the table and spinning around amongst the dancers. 

Geralt sighed. He finished his ale and decided he’d stayed long enough to be polite before heading back to the set of suites the Count had put aside from him and Jaskier. They were huge, two bedrooms with a sitting room in between, all decorated in various ridiculously expensive fabrics. He shrugged out of the stiff formal doublet, dumping it on the back of the overstuffed chair he lowered himself into in the sitting area before unlacing his boots and peeling them off. It was late in the evening, but he was certain the banquet would go on into the small hours of the morning. 

He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, trying to unpack the feeling of  _ wrong _ that had been plaguing him. Slipping into a light meditation so his body could relax whilst his mind worked, he pulled the feeling apart, piece by piece. He knew that it had started before now, but not exactly when, and maybe it wasn’t a wrongness so much as just something he wasn’t sure how to name or he’d never come across before. It was definitely attached to Jaskier. But how? And what did it mean? 

**

Several hours passed without him noticing and it was only the presence of someone else entering the room that brought him out of the meditation. He opened his eyes to see Jaskier sprawled across the settee across from him, hands folded behind his head, watching him through half-closed eyes. When he noticed the Witcher looking back at him, he smirked, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Geralt raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Oh! You expected me to be in someone else’s room tonight?” He shrugged, turning his gaze to the ceiling. “Not that I didn’t have offers, mind you, but performing for such an adoring crowd is extremely exhausting.” 

Geralt snorted.

“What!” Jaskier turned back, looking affronted. “You don’t believe me? I could have had my pick of gentry.” He paused. “Or the serving staff for that matter.” He looked back at Geralt, grinning. “But instead I’ve chosen to spend my night in quiet contemplation with my dear friend - yes, yes not your friend - so the least you can do is join this rather one sided conversation.” 

Geralt huffed out a breath.

“No, I don’t think I’m being dramatic.” The bard kicked his legs over the arm of the settee, his stocking feet dangling off the end. “Nothing about this whole endeavour has been dramatic.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Two years and this is the first wyvern you’ve fought and I don’t even get to see anything,” he grumbled. 

Ah, there it was. He was angry over not being eaten by half a dozen highly venomous monsters. Geralt sighed, pushing himself off the chair and moving closer to Jaskier. 

“Would you rather I let them eat you?” he asked gruffly. And suddenly the shivering, tingling feeling was back. He frowned. Was that fear? Witchers didn’t feel fear. 

Jaskier groaned. “Geralt! I wouldn’t have gotten eaten! I just wanted to see one, to be able to watch you swing your incredibly sharp sword and rid the land of another monster. Something to write songs about!” He stood up suddenly, nearly chest to chest with Geralt and the Witcher breathed in, tasting the wine and frustration and irritation that was currently exuding from the bard. Jaskier was looking Geralt in the eye, teeth barred as he gritted out, “I’m not completely helpless!” 

“Hmmm. Are you sure about that?” Geralt stepped forward suddenly and Jaskier stumbled back, landing heavily on the settee, eyes wide. “You may have proven yourself capable in some ways, but you wouldn’t survive if I let you on every hunt.” The feeling in his spine was surging higher now and he frowned, leaning over Jaskier, caging him in with one arm on the back of the settee and one beside his head. “Are you willing to throw your life away so carelessly?” 

Jaskier was completely still underneath him, his breathing slightly laboured. Geralt breathed in through his nose. He’d expected more anger, annoyance, irritation, anything but the sudden arousal that was spiking over the bard’s usual scents of honeysuckle and salt. His eyes watched the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, then licked his lips. 

Silence stretched between them for a few moments before Jaskier asked, tentatively, “Geralt?” 

“Hmmm. Two years, and you’ve seen quite a lot of monsters to write your ballads and songs about. Isn’t that enough? What else do you want?” 

Jaskier opened his mouth to retort and then snapped it shut immediately, cheeks colouring. 

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Geralt leaned down further, pausing to give Jaskier room to escape, to move away. Instead, he let out an indecent whine and pushed himself up off the settee, pressing his lips against Geralt’s, almost tentatively. Geralt, like the wolf he was named for, growled and pushed into the kiss, the feeling of  _ wrong _ he’d been carrying around solidifying into something  _ right _ . He hardly noticed as Jaskier’s hand tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper, opening his mouth with a tentative touch of tongue and then Geralt could taste the wine he’d drunk earlier and it was a heady sensation, like too much and not enough all at once. He used one arm to wrap around Jaskier’s shoulders and hold him closer, never wanting to let go. 

Jaskier backed off first, panting for air as Geralt nipped at his lips. He swallowed, trying to get his voice back before saying, “This. I want this.” 

Geralt just kissed him again.


End file.
